Where Have All the Scooby Snax Gone?
by M. Night Wolfalona
Summary: Oneshot. Continuing my "After the Last Mystery" series. Now it's Scooby's turn. What was going through HIS mind? And what about the Scooby Snax? R&R, please. Be much obliged if ya do. :


**Hello again, my naughty monkeys (WHIPLASH). It's been a while, I know, but FINALLY, I am here with Scooby Doo's viewpoint on the story. Shaggy shall come last, seeing as his words seemed to break apart the gang, and he would feel the most about it. This will continue my "After the Last Mystery" series, based on the break-up in the movie, which also includes "My Knight in Big-Headed Armor", "My Leading Lady in Go-Go Boots", and "A Wilted Crown O'Daisies on My Flower Child's Mind". Feel free to check them out and review THOSE stories as well, which I REALLY hope you do. Thank you! Hope you enjoy the story ;).**

**DISCLAIMER: Scooby Doo and all related characters & elements are owned and/or trademarks of and/or copyrighted by Hanna-Barbera and/or Warner Brothers. Last I checked, that wasn't my name. SO STOP ASKING ALREADY CAUSE YOU'RE REALLY STARTING TO ANNOY ME WITH YOUR INQUIRIES OF OWNERSHIP!! GAAAAAHHH!!**

**Well, that's it then. Hope you enjoy it. Toodles! And show your liking of the story by R&R'ing please! Thank you! Bye!  
****Wolfy!**

Scooby gazed mournfully at the box of Scooby Snax before him, picking it up and shaking it to make sure that his suspicions were rightly justified.

The box was empty. All of the Scooby Snax were gone. So were his friends.

Seemed like nothing was going right tonight.

The Great Dane folded his paws and laid his head gently upon them, sighing wearily as he did so, and casting a brief but worried glance towards the roof of the old Mystery Machine, and his faithfully lanky human pet that sat above him. Poor Shaggy, he thought. It was hurting his master--no, friend--that his only human friends had left. He had told him that friends don't quit, and they never do--but by the sound of the angry conversation the dog had heard earlier that night, it sure did sound like they did. Does "I quit!" mean something else in the human world as well? He had no clue whatsoever. At least, not on that matter.

Scooby looked around at the interior of the van, his nose searching out for some unclaimed crumb as he thought back to everything that the gang had built in here, and everything that they'd experienced together.

There was one of Daphne's hairbrushes, with a polished chesnut handle, sitting there primly underneath the seat; she had always prided herself for her beautiful red hair, and had brushed it so often that there were vague reddish auburn hairs all over the rainbow tye-dye shag carpeting in the back of the van. And the gang said--or rather, **_had _**said, giving what had happened earlier that night--that **_he _**shed a lot of hair. How silly. He remembered how she would yell at him if he knawed at one of the handles, or even sniffed at it. She wouldn't be doing that anymore, he thought sadly.

There were no Scooby Snax near the brush.

He moved on to the front seat. There was one of Fred's old ascots, with his name embroidered into the edge with light purple thread, flopped across one of the cupholders by the driver's seat. That had been done so painstakingly and lovingly by Daphne, for their three week anniversary. The two had only just starting dating after 'The Prom', an important event for his human pets for some unknown and mysterious reason. Scooby had often overheard other male students bragging about how they had "gotten lucky", and he wondered if they had found a free box of Scooby Snax somewhere. Shaggy always got nervous talking about it, all stutter-y and embarassed, so Scooby never really found out what when on at this bizarre gathering, or just how exactly these guys "got lucky".

No one ever did specify, of course, but after 'The Prom' Night, Fred and Daphne had started going out alone without him or the others, on what they called "Dates". They had been getting along so much more nicely, Scooby thought; when they weren't on a mystery, that is. Then Fred would re-adjust his ascot and become all mean and uncaring about where he sent him and his pet Shaggy off to, no matter how scary and spooky it was. And he would make them be bait for these scary and spooky monsters without even asking them how they felt about it. Of course, he would give them Scooby Snax for doing it, but he would never actually do it himself, Scooby noticed. Fred _**used**_ to be nice, and ask everyone what they would think of the plan, or how they should split up; but now, it was as if when he wore that ascot, he acted all mean and rude and stuck-up. He wouldn't act that way anymore; at least, hopefully, not towards anyone else.

There were no Scooby Snax by the ascot, either.

Finally, the big-hearted dog turned his eyes (and his nose) towards the back of the van, near the back doors, the windows slightly foggy in the chilly summer night air. There, on the pull-down table where a laptop was usually stored or set up on, was a spare pair of Velma's glasses and a spare cleaning cloth for them that was always kept nearby, just in case they broke during one of their many many mysteries.

Scooby swallowed down a sad feeling as he thought about Velma. Second only to his close pet Shaggy, Velma was his best friend. She would always have a spare Scooby Snack on her especially for him, and she wouldn't mind if he jumped into his arms, quaking in his fur. **_She _**wouldn't yell at him if he drooled on her clothes or messed up her hair; even dislocating her glasses didn't make her mad, as long as he helped her to find them afterwards.

He was also close to Velma because she was close to Shaggy. And because Shaggy had what was called a "crush" on Velma, which basically meant that he liked her like Fred and Daphne had liked each other before The Big Break-Up, only she didn't like him back.

Or so his owner thought.

Scooby could tell, just by how Velma's scent changed when she was around Shaggy, that she liked him back. That she, too, had a "crush" on him. Only neither of them knew about it. Scooby knew, of course, but that was only because of their scent. That's how most dogs find out about who likes who and what; through the change in a person's particular smell. Why couldn't humans be like that? the Great Dane thought wearily. It would make things so much easier for them all. Plus, there would be _much_ fewer cats around. It was a "win-win situation", as Fred had often put it.

Unfortunately, it was too late for anything to be done about the two. Everything was ruined; everyone was gone and mad at each other; and his best friend and pet had no more human friends, which were vital for some form of sanity, at least. After all, he couldn't spend all of his time talking to a dog. Scooby knew that if he himself didn't converse with another dog sometimes, he would feel alone and misunderstood. _Despite_ how close Shaggy was to actually being one himself. There was one good side to all of this, however:

There was one lone Scooby Snack right by Velma's cleaning cloth for her glasses.

Scooby pounced eagerly on the snack, licking his chops in gleeful anticipation; and just as he was about to swallow it, he heard something.

A barely audible sob (even for his keen hearing) from the roof above him.

The big lovable Great Dane sighed, as he stared down at the delicious treat in his paws. How could he forget about his best and closest friend, who had taken care of him for all these years? Who had never once complained when he stole food from his plate, or drooled on his shoes, or chewed on his socks, or hogged the entirety of the bed even? Who had chosen him out of an entire roomful of puppies that were of much better standards according to the breed, and that were much more obedient and selfless then he was?

Yes; how he could've forgotten him was a mystery indeed. And ironically so, considering the situation at hand.

Scooby stood up, and, after setting down the Snack on the table again, shook out his fur, before quietly opening the door and climbing up to the roof, Scooby Snack in hand--er, paw--whatever. He stood unsteadily, his tail swaying back and forth, as he made his way towards his--technically speaking--owner. When he finally reached his human pet, he sat down next to him, and looked him over.

To be honest, Shaggy was a mess. His face was buried in his knees, his arms wrapped around his legs that were crumpled inward to his chest. His hair, usually out of place, was now wildly untamed, like a lion's mane, and his shoulders were trembling lightly; whether or not it was from the situation at paw, or from the cool night air, Scooby couldn't tell. At least, not until he got a good whiff of of his scent. The faint trace of tears was all that he needed to know.

The Great Dane sat patiently next to his quivering owner, and nudged his side gently with his warm, damp, black nose. "Rhaggy? R'are rou r'okay?"

His friend lifted his tear-stained face unsteadily, hastliy wiping the rest away. "L-Like, ye-yeah Scoob. I'm-I'm fine." What a lie. Poor Shaggy. He hoped that he would be okay.  
Maybe his surprise treat would cheer him up.

"Rhaggy?"

"Hm?"

"R-I rave romething rhat will rake rou reel better." As Shaggy looked at him quizzically, sniffing up the excess tears and wiping away what was left, Scooby brought out Velma's handkerchief, watching his pet stiffen uneasily at the sight of it. He placed it unsteadily upon the beatnik's knee, allowing it to fall open, like a rose in bloom might, to the lone Scooby Snack that seemed to glint mischieviously in the moonlight. "Rhere. Re can r'share rit."

Upon those words, Shaggy seemed to fall into a varied range of emotions: sadness, anger, fear, self-loathing, love. But the strongest emotion that shone in his eyes was gratitude as he took the treat shakily in his long, pale, and slender fingers. He broke it evenily in half, handing the bigger half of it to Scooby, who then nudged it back.

"Rou can rave the bigger r'half, Rhaggy," he said as he sat down next to his owner and friend, staring out at the starry sky above them, and trying not to dwell on the fact that the Mystery Machine was parked incredibly close to the edge of a steep and rocky cliff at the edge of their hometown nearby, as he waited for a reply.

All was silent in the still night sky for a few seconds. The sounds of the low-lying crickets from the sparse patches of grass around them seemed to fade, as if the moon was absorbing all of the life out of the world in that one, unsteady moment. The beatnik looked over at him--

--and for the first time that night since the break-up, he smiled.

It wasn't much of a smile. Just a slight upturning of the left corner of his lips. But it was enough for the Dane. "Th-thanks, S-Scoob. I-It means a-a lot," he stuttered quietly, before handing his pet his half of the snack, and looking up at the stars. Scooby nudged his owner's side lightly, before picking up his half-treat in a kind of toasting gesture, waiting for Shaggy to look over.

"Ro friends?" Shaggy lifted his head to look his best buddy in the eye, and that little half-smile came back.

"Yeah. Like, to friends," he said quietly, lifting up his half in the moonlight. "And to never--" he swallowed nervously "--never giving up on those who say that they aren't."

"Rheah." And they clinked their Scooby Snack halves, before eating them silently, the only sounds permeating the air being that of silent munching. But still the atmosphere hung heavy with sadness and guilt. Then, the idea hit the sensitive mutt.

"Rey Rhaggy?"

"Like, y-yeah Scoob?"

"Rou r'know rhat really relps a dog rhen re's blue?"

"What?"

"Rowling at rhe roon. R'It releases a rot of r'tension."

Silence.

"Ro rou rant to try rit?"

All that was heard was the gentle chirping of nearby crickets, and the evening breeze flowing through the long and sweet-smelling grasses. Then:

"Okay."

It was barely heard, nothing more then a slight whisper. But it was said all the same.

"Rokay? Rood. R'I r'guess R'I'll r'start." And Scooby leaned his head back--

--And howled. A gloriously hollow and soulful sound. And as the treble note in his throat held its key lightly, and as it echoed throughout the valley that lay before them from the cliff's edge, it was only then that the Great Dane realized just how much that this break-up was hurting. He had been trying to stay strong for Shaggy's sake, but it was now, as he howled out his big and cowardly heart, that he truly felt the pain that had been afflicted on him by the others.

The howl trailed on and wobbled precariously as tears began to trickle down his face, but it held its path, as did his train of thought. How could the others do this to him, to Shaggy? How oculd they just throw away everything without even bothering to think of the consequences that it could hold for the gang's welfare? How could they think that doing this was for the best? They needed each other. And he needed them all. Why did things have to change?

The tears were pouring down his face now, shimmering like two streams as they dripped down in a steady beat as they landed with a light plunk! onto the metal roof of the Mystery Machine. And yet still his howl held its unsteady note. And it hit him then, why the gang had broken up. None of them could accept each other, or the fact the gang was splitting up to go its separate ways for college. And the easiest way to leave or split up from each other was to leave each other mad. It eased the pain, supposedly. But then, if that was the case, why did it hurt so much?

It was because he loved them.

But did they ever love him like he loved them?

And the howl tapered of to a mere whimper, mighty rivers of tears flowing fast down his furry face, while the echoes continued on without him.

Just like the rest of life did.

Scooby vaguely remembered being pulled close to the sandalwoood-smelling too-big olive green t-shirt of Shaggy, and blubbering loudly, as everything that had happened that night crashed down around his soft floppy ears. The mysteries were gone. The Scooby Snax were gone. The adventures were gone. The late night burgers and french fries at the Malt Shop were gone. The endless weekends driving around aimlessly, laughing the entire time at every little meaningless thing were gone. The sunny afternoons spent playing frisbee and freeze tag were gone. The ghosts and ghouls and goblins were gone (even though he didn't miss them that much). But most importantly--

His family was gone. And they weren't going to come back the next day like they had always done before.

This time, they really were gone.

And so were all the Scooby Snacks.

Beside him, as he began to drift off to a sobbish sleep, he heard another ghostly howl echo throughout the valley below, one that felt so tortured and pained that it caused more tears to rise into his large wide puppy dog-brown eyes; and instinctively he knew it was Shaggy. But instead of faltering like his own had, it stayed steady and rose in strength and sound, the pain soon roaring and rushing away into the wind, to be carried away and never seen again.

And when his eyes began to droop, he thought at how lucky he was to have Shaggy for a friend, because he knew exactly what he was feeling as the others split up for the final time, who understood what it felt like to have his family ripped away from him so sharply and suddenly.

He still had his best friend and pet/owner, maybe even as a brother. And for now, that was all he needed: a friend who knew what he was going through, because he himself was going through something much worse, but yet still the same in so many ways. His best buddy in the whole world who needed someone there to listen, and would listen to him, because they had an almost brotherly bond. And who had the same need for chocolate-covered eggplant burgers.

And finally, when the world of dreams lured Scooby Doo to its wonderland of better hopes, he smiled; because when he had his best buddy by his side, the prospect of everyone coming back seemed a little more assured of being real.

And the prospect of finding more Scooby Snax to eat were all the higher and better for the both of them.

**So? What do you think? Review and tell me. And I hoped that you liked the part about Fred and Daphne being a semi-couple, as well as the slight Shelma-ness. OH! And please review, and tell me if I wrote Scooby alright, because he's hard to write! I MUST know!! So PLEEEEEAAAAAAASSSSSSEEE REEEEEVIIIEEEW!!**

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**...bye! And PLEASE REVIEW! Toodles!  
Wolfy!**


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